


Close

by GingerBreton



Series: Then I Met You [9]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time Together, Fluff and Smut, Smut with heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29067093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerBreton/pseuds/GingerBreton
Summary: “So, what’s the plan for today?” Mac smirked, going back to whatever he was planning for her neck. “No settlements in trouble?”“Not as far as I’m aware.”“What?  No raiders demanding tato ransom?”“No—oh.”“No kittens stuck in trees?”“I hope not…”  Ivy’s hands fumbled at the remaining buttons of her shirt.“No walls that desperately, specifically, need you to build them—”  MacCready’s words faltered when she tossed the plaid material onto the floor.“Why?  Are you feeling the sudden urge to nail something, MacCready?”---Ivy and MacCready decide how to spend a rare day off
Relationships: Robert Joseph MacCready/Female Sole Survivor
Series: Then I Met You [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813063
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43





	Close

Maybe it was the drumming on the rooftop above her, or maybe it was the drumming behind her eyes from Vadim’s moonshine that woke Ivy that morning. She was sure it was morning at the very least, even though there wasn’t a single room in the Dugout that had natural light, except when the door to the bar swung open. Despite the obvious return of the rain and the hangover that gently rapped on the inside of her skull, it was good to wake up at the Dugout. There she had the luxury of a bed, comfortable—if scratchy—blankets, nothing imminently trying to kill her and—

Ivy opened her eyes.

And a mercenary— _her_ mercenary—fast asleep beside her. She really needed to hone her waking up instincts, because if she admitted to MacCready that her first thoughts on waking were ‘ _mmm warm’_ he’d get mad at her, and she’d be back to basic—and extremely sarcastic—survival lessons.

Although maybe under these circumstances he’d let it slide.

They lay almost nose-to-nose. He’d tucked one arm up under his head like a pillow, the other draped around her waist—at some point in the night his hand had snuck up the back of her shirt. Somewhere behind the headache were sleepy memories of rough fingertips drawing soothing patterns on her skin when she’d woken gasping from haunted dreams.

In the guttering lamplight MacCready looked peaceful. It was a sight Ivy hadn’t seen in a long time. She’d seen him happy—content, even—but there was always a watchful edge to him. He never let his guard down.

Propping herself on her elbow, Ivy relished the rare sight of his face without even the slightest hint of a frown. The only clue to the worries which lay beneath was the line drawn between his brows, worn in place by years of irritable furrows. She was sure it was shallower than it used to be.

His frown had been in full force the first time she set eyes on him across the Third Rail’s backroom. And so had he—spoiling for a fight with two brutes, fierce and cocky and every bit of what the word around Goodneighbor had drummed him up to be.

A sensible woman would’ve turned and left. Seen trouble on the horizon. Remembered the lessons life had knocked into her. Known she was too much of a mess to get caught up in anything so soon. And then their eyes had latched for just a moment—stormy blue meeting deep brown. Trouble had come knocking the second she forgot how to breathe.

MacCready muttered something in his sleep, frowning to himself again—deep in important discussions somewhere in the depths of his dream. Ivy’s affectionate chuckle ended in an indignant gasp, the muscles in his arm flexed, slipping her back down onto the bed and dragging her flush against him—her nice sleep-warm stomach suddenly pressed against cool skin.

 _Rude_.

It was usually her job to steal warmth. She pulled the remaining fastened parts of her button-down tighter around her chest and gave an indignant shiver. One corner of Mac’s mouth pulled in a smirk—even in his sleep he loved winding her up.

Gooseflesh mottled his bare skin from where he’d pushed the covers to his waist. Ivy lightly trailed her finger over the chilly skin of his shoulder, tracing the lines of lean muscle, the curve of his bicep and down his side. She smirked, feeling the muscles twitch under her feather light touch—ticklish as ever, MacCready—just one of a few things she’d learned in the short weeks since they’d crossed the line between friends and something else.

She’d grown very appreciative of the shape of him recently—between the wandering hands and the desperate kisses, like they were teenagers sneaking around. In the times she’d found herself happily crowded against walls or sturdy trees, his hands investigating the curve of her ass or the swell of her breasts—and cursing the vault suit for halting his progress—her own explorations had yielded promising results. Her mercenary was all lean muscle—wiry, no excess. They fit around necessity, not ego—something Ryan could’ve stood to understand—and they also fit very nicely under her exploring fingertips.

Now she let her curious fingertips trace the shape of scars she’d only ever felt not seen. She knew there were more on his other side, but for now her fingers drew the outline of a star-shape on his flank—the skin knotted and puckered around what she could make an uneducated guess at being an old bullet wound.

One day she’d know them by heart, learn the story behind every bit of hurt, make silent promises that nobody would ever hurt him again, but for now she dipped and pressed her lips to the scar.

Caught by a sudden prickling awareness of eyes on her, Ivy glanced up. MacCready cracked an eye open, watching her curiously, a smile back to pulling at one corner of his mouth.

“Oh, that’s not fair,” she rested her chin on his chest and pouted. “Close your eyes again. I was going to wake you nicely.”

MacCready’s smile spread—smug and cat-like—but he obliged. Ivy stretched up him, “Not that nicely,” she purred, affectionately nibbling at his earlobe. She felt more than heard the slight chuckle that rumbled against her stomach.

Ivy caught his chin and turned his face away so she could press a soft kiss to his cheekbone. “Good morning, tiger,” she hummed before sliding down to settle in the crook of MacCready’s neck, pressing a trail of kisses as she went.

He smelled like sleep and smoke and just a hint of salt, and as she neared his chest she could smell the lingering honeysuckle scent of her hair from where she’d fallen asleep in his arms the night before.

“Good morning to you too, beautiful.”

MacCready kissed the top of her head delicately, but she felt the grin. He didn’t give her a chance to react before he roped his arm around her shoulders and dipped to pepper sloppy kisses across her face until she squealed “ _Bobby_ ” in protest.

Shaking his head, MacCready pulled away. The mischief in his eyes melted into soft affection as he ran his thumb over Ivy’s bottom lip. She kissed it, and whatever he was about to say dissolved on his tongue when he pulled her into a kiss instead.

Ivy could kill time kissing MacCready forever. Happily getting lost in arms holding her so close she could barely catch her breath, hands tangled in her hair, tongue teasing. Pulling away just enough to watch his lips chase hers, millimeters away from her smile as she toyed with him until he grew frustrated and dragged her back to him.

She hummed contentedly when his attentions moved to the scar on the edge of her lip—the amount of attention he lavished on such a little thing made her melt. She knew it was guilt that drove him—even though it was Barnes’ fault it was there, not his—and she’d tried to tell him that, over and over, but god it was bliss when he kissed her that way.

Ivy knew this dance; from here MacCready would move to trail soft kisses—and even softer words if he was caught up enough to forget himself—along her jaw, before heading for her neck. From there she would usually deflect him. His lips on her neck would be her downfall, a weakness she couldn’t resist—one she was fairly certain his sharp eyes had uncovered long before his mouth had been allowed to explore her skin.

Today she didn’t. She just smiled at the smirk against her skin when she tilted her head for easier access, and at the pleasant shivers that ran down her spine.

She tried to stifle the needy noise caught in the back of her throat at the rasp of stubble chased by kisses—it didn’t work. MacCready pulled away, giving her a look that made her heart flutter and put knots in her stomach.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Mac smirked, going back to whatever he was planning for her neck.

“Hmm...plan?”

“No settlements in trouble?”

He brushed aside her hair and moved her shirt to get at her collarbone—each nip quickly soothed by soft lips sent shivers down her spine.

“Not as far as I’m aware.”

“What? No raiders demanding tato ransom?”

“No— _oh._ ”

“No kittens stuck in trees?”

“I hope not…” Ivy’s hands fumbled at the remaining buttons of her shirt.

“No walls that desperately, _specifically_ , need you to build them—” MacCready’s words faltered when she tossed the plaid material onto the floor.

“Why? Are you feeling the sudden urge to nail something, MacCready?” She smiled, triumphant, if a little breathless. “Because I was just thinking about getting breakfast—”

He composed himself quickly, bouncing back with that cocky curve to his lips Ivy couldn’t resist. “Funny that, so was I.”

She laughed indulgently.

The goosebumps left by cool air on her warm skin were swiftly chased by the much more pleasant spread of goosebumps rippling out from MacCready’s wandering hands exploring places they’d only grasped through—how did he put it—‘ _that goddamn vault suit’_.

The knots in Ivy’s stomach tightened, but now she knew it wasn’t nerves. She felt safe here. She wanted this. She wanted him. Every part of him—the good and the bad. Shit, she was on the brink of giving her heart away again and it should scare the hell out of her, but the pulse racing beneath the path of MacCready’s ardent kisses was from excitement—the thrill of standing on the edge, readying herself to dive—nerves had nothing to do with it.

A breathy sigh crept past her lips as MacCready’s hands smoothed a path down her side and over her hips. She’d thought about those hands on her. More than once. She’d watched them reverently work on his sniper rifle—deft, delicate, deliberate—MacCready carried his skills in muscle memory, knowing what he’d find with every motion without having to look.

Ivy had wondered how long it’d taken him to learn those motions. No, that was a lie. All she could think about was how long it would take him to learn _her_ by muscle memory.

He certainly seemed dedicated to the endeavour.

MacCready’s newest area of study snapped Ivy out of her pleasant haze with a frayed gasp. Hands, rough but gentle, spread to cup her breast. She’d just recovered her breath when his lips closed around her nipple. His tongue swirled, his teeth lightly grazed, and Ivy _moaned_. She couldn’t stifle it. It broke free the second she arched against his mouth.

God, how long had it been since someone had touched her like this.

He was watching her, perfectly pleased with himself, blue eyes sparkling with not a hint of sleep left in them.

“Show off.”

She bit down hard on her lip to trap any more sounds from escaping her throat, shivering at rasp of stubble and the whiskers of his goatee grazing against her skin as he worked across to her other breast. His fingertips trailed ticklish paths down her sides and along her thighs until she giggled and squirmed.

In one swift motion MacCready slid up the bed, trapping Ivy under him, eyes brimming with mischief. His tongue drowned her laughter with languid kisses, broad hands winding their way into her soft but increasingly tangled hair.

His warm skin against hers was bliss and she cursed the thin fabric of her underwear for stopping her from feeling him against every inch of her body as she pressed herself flush against him. Ivy draped one arm wrapped around his neck, the other scored lines down the muscles of his shoulder and arm. There was no ignoring the warmth stirring low in her belly.

“So...breakfast?” MacCready broke away and grinned a challenge at her, raising a brow to see if she’d bite.

“Robert Joseph MacCready,” Ivy glared. “You are a tease.” But she couldn’t keep the traitorous smile from tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Where would we be without the teasing?”

His words were mumbled between kisses that studded her throat, while his hand slowly travelled the contours of her body.

“Probably rolling in caps from all the work we’d have gotten done.” Her words were clumsy, faltering when his hand came to rest on her stomach, just catching the material of her underwear.

Anticipation robbed them of clever words. Mac’s nerves disappeared in the bob of his adam’s apple, but Ivy’s heart was still caught in her throat—maybe this edge was a little higher than she anticipated.

“Bobby?” Her voice a whisper caught on thready breaths. “You’ll stay close?”

“Always.” The words had barely left her mouth when he answered. It wasn’t a thoughtless throwaway comment, he truly sounded like he’d never dream of being away from her.

MacCready bumped the tip of his nose against Ivy’s then rested his forehead against her, blue eyes reading her in earnest. “We can stop any time. Just say the word.” Her worry melted in an instant.

Ivy kissed his bottom lip softly. “Don’t you dare.”

She leant down and wriggled free of the already damp fabric—was she so easy to tease these days, or was it just him? His eyes darted down then back to meet hers, a shaky breath tickling her cheek.

MacCready nudged her knee aside with his leg, propped on one elbow he settled over hip. As his hand moved lower she let her legs fall open. Ivy’s eyes fluttered closed, all her breath escaping her when his fingers slip between her thighs.

Her body was alight with the sensation of the curses ground against the delicate skin of her throat and the deft fingers that swept the length of her. Anticipation crackled through her synapses, MacCready’s long leisurely strokes leaving her gasping curses of her own as his fingers dipped down into the wet heat of her.

She thought she might shatter entirely when teasing fingertips guided their way back up to her clit—she managed to restrict herself to whispered blasphemy. She wasn’t a believer but the words falling from her tongue would damn her in any faith.

Wriggling her hips to gain a better angle, Ivy gasped as the circles MacCready’s fingers traced threatened to knock every sensible thought out of her head.

“Better?” Mac chased the question with a kiss.

Her lips failed to make words when he found his pace, she just nodded, letting head rock back onto the pillow, feeling the satisfied hum of MacCready at her side.

“You’re good at this.” Ivy managed, breathlessly watching him work from beneath her lidded gaze.

“The best,” he grinned against her ear, sucking a lovebite to her neck then licking to soothe the bruising skin—she’d have to make sure she kept that out of sight.

“You think that about everything.” She turned to nip his bottom lip between her teeth.

He smirked, and let his thumb take over the teasing circles as he slid one finger inside her and then a second. She arced into his touch.

 _Fuck,_ he was good with his hands—a quick study of just where and how to touch her. He was damn tease too, slowing until her hips bucked and pleas spilled from her— _Oh god, Bobby please_. Occasionally the illusion of control shattered when a particularly desperate noise broke from her parted lips and he couldn’t help but grind down against her hip, curses only held at bay by his mouth pressed against her throat, cock straining hard against the fabric of his underwear.

Head swimming, her eyes fluttered open. MacCready was watching her, the ocean blues of his eyes darkened and stormy, his expression rapt and hungry. Ivy stuffed her knuckles in her mouth, biting down hard to stifle the heady moan that MacCready’s curling fingers inside her dragged from her throat. The desperate sounds of her craving to be fucked were not how she wanted half of Diamond City to find out she’d finally got her mercenary in her bed.

Caught between the tireless ministrations of his fingers, and his mouth sucking kisses and love bites to her breasts, Ivy was in a daze. There was no order or thought, just the sound of her begging, arched and rocking urgently against his hand; pleading for more, for harder, for anything to carry her over the edge.

MacCready ground down against her hip, her name caught on ragged breaths against her ear. She came hard around his fingers, legs trembling, fingers balling in the bedsheets. It was his name that tumbled from her tongue between shaky breaths and mumbled syllables when she fell apart.

With shaky hands, Ivy caught MacCready’s chin and guided his lips to hers, thanking him with kisses when her tongue couldn’t quite form the words to express that he might just have lifted the weight of a century off her shoulders.

She just had one more to go.

When they parted, breathless from stealing the air from each other’s lungs, Ivy propped herself on one elbow, determined to keep him close, to return the favour. Dragging her fingered back through her ruffled hair and fixing him with a lidded gaze, she slid her hand down MacCready’s stomach following the tawny trail of hair. The muscles in his stomach twitching beneath her touch brought the quirk of a smile to her lips. She paused, toying with the waistband of his underwear.

“Baby, I want to touch you.” Deliberately dragging her bottom lip between her teeth, Ivy batted dark lashes up at him. “May I?” she asked, voice low and sweet.

“Geez, Ives.” MacCready’s voice cracked. “Yes. Fuh—yes.”

Making a show of it, Ivy licked her thumb before sliding her hand into his underwear and taking him in a loose fist, her thumb tracing a lazy circle over the tip of his cock. His knees nearly buckled. Ivy stroked her fist from base to head, the soft skin such a contrast to the rough hand gripping her hip hard to steady himself.

The path of her fist grew firmer. Heat was pooling in the pit of her belly again. She followed the bob of his adam’s apple, leaning up to trace the path, tasting salt sweat on her tongue. MacCready’s hips bucked against her fist.

There was something exhilarating—greater than any post-firefight buzz—knowing that she could go from absolute putty in MacCready’s hands to having him eating out of her palm in one smooth motion. To still feel the tremor in her own limbs, but knowing he hung on her every movement. Ivy leaned up to lap at his bottom lip. She’d missed this.

But she’d played enough.

Ivy pinched MacCready’s chin between her thumb and forefinger and turned him to her, locking gazes. He stared back, helpless, breathless, heavy lidded, pupils blown.

“I need you.”

She did. The heat in her belly had reached an ache.

The tension shattered into shared laughter as MacCready gracelessly kicked himself free of his underwear, tossing it somewhere across the room, his affectionate, clumsy kisses knocking her back onto the bed.

He settled between her thighs, his hand threading through her snowy white hair. He leaned down to kiss her again, tenderly this time.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” She ignored the colour flooding her cheeks—there was no point in being coy now—she’d woken often enough cheeks burning, worrying what she might have said during nocturnal moments. “I’ve been thinking about you—about this—for weeks.”

His eyebrow cocked half in disbelief with a gentle shake of his head. He captured her lips, soft at first, swiftly growing more urgent. Ivy reached a hand down between them to guide him but his cock was already nudging her entrance.

MacCready swallowed the broken moan that spilled off her tongue when he pushed into her ever so slowly. She was on the point of begging again already—begging to be filled.

She’d forgotten how much she missed this—every nerve alert but muddled all at once. The ways she loved to learn about the bodies that shared her space. Now she longed to know the secret touches that would bring MacCready to his knees, the words that would make him whimper.

But learning them was half the fun.

A lazy thrust drew a whine from her lips and a ragged moan from his, as he sank in deeper. Ivy arched her hips until they met his, filling her to the core. One hand clutched at the bedding, scrunching it in her palm. The other was pinned beneath MacCready’s palm, their fingers woven together, rough and smooth clinging desperately together. His breath was thready and humid against her neck, pattering against her hot skin.

She lost herself in his steady rhythm, in the callouses that wore on his palm from a lifetime in the wastes as they skimmed over her smooth curves, in the kisses that stole the breath from her lungs before lips and teeth continued their exploration of any and all exposed skin within reach.

So long as he stayed close, she didn’t care. Every touch was electric.

God it felt good. It felt _great_. But her body was stubborn. It didn’t want to give in so easily a second time.

Her brows knitted as she twisted and tensed trying to get just the right angle, the right tension. MacCready’s lips pressed to the knot of concentration between her brows.

“You okay, kitten.”

She smirked at the name—revenge for getting called tiger, no doubt.

“Yes.” She tugged him down into a needy kiss, breaking away with a determined look. “I want to go on top.”

MacCready’s eyes lit up and the greedy smile had barely had a chance to spread across his lips before his arm wrapped around her and rolled them over. A dual hiss of frustration caught in the air as he slipped out, it mingled into laughter when their eyes met.

Straddling his hips and bracing her palms on his chest, Ivy dipped briefly to press her lips to a curiously shaped scar that crossed the skin above his heart. Sitting back, she took hold of MacCready’s cock, stroking him from base to tip until he trembled. Closing her eyes, her breath hitched as she slowly sank back down around him.

Too slowly for MacCready’s tastes. His fingertips dragged bruises into her hips as he flexed up. The whine that broke free from her throat barely sounded like her own voice. MacCready eyed her eagerly, as he smoothed rough palms up her thighs.

“Too much?” he panted, finger flexing against her skin—double checking something they both already knew the answer to. Ivy shook her head, returning the breathless but wicked smile that pulled at his lips.

Gripping her hips tightly they moved together, Ivy feeling sparks with every drag of their hips. He let her control the rhythm, happy to watch her hungrily, hands roaming up to palm her breasts, thumbs brushing with her nipples until he could draw a hiss from her. The swift tensing of her muscles drew a groan from him in return.

Just as she was getting into a rhythm, feeling the slow build, MacCready slipped his thumb between her legs. She could feel his smug chuckle between her trembling thighs, wickedly amused by the way she tried to form words as the unrelenting circles he worked stole every sound and rational thought from her. All she could do was lean her head back and gasp for breath.

Ivy knew she was close, her breath dragging ragged patterns through the air, barely filling her lungs, leaving her lightheaded. All she could think of were MacCready’s lips on hers when she fell apart.

Her murmured pleas for attention snapped him out of his teasing. MacCready tried to pull her down to meet his lips but she batted his hands away.

“Here. I need you _here_.”

“Yes, boss,” he chuckled, making her huff irritably at the old title. “...angel,” he purred instead, teeth nipping at her earlobe without a hint of remorse.

Rocking suddenly upright, MacCready roped an arm around her waist and dragged her closer. Ivy cried out wordlessly as he nearly sent her over the edge, every nerve on fire and craving more.

If nobody had heard them before, they surely would’ve now.

All she wanted was to kiss him—like she’d demanded—but every part of her felt clumsy. Unsteady, she clung to him, raking her fingers through his hair, relishing the friction each urgent roll of her hips brought—and the heavy groans they pulled from her mercenary.

With each wave of ecstasy her head fell back as she desperately tried to remember how to breathe. In the lulls as the next wave built, MacCready murmured words of encouragement against her mouth, nipping at her lips and brushing his tongue against hers to steal honey-sweet pleas from her tongue.

Ivy’s head rolled back again, the world narrowed to nothing more than the feeling of MacCready on her, each motion honed by the sensation of lips and tongue and teeth on the column of her throat. She fell apart around him, biting down hard on her lip to stifle the noise of his name caught on her breathless moans, the only language she could conjure in the end.

As her world began to swim back into focus, MacCready’s began to come undone.

“Angel, I—” he stuttered, hips thrusting erratically.

Ivy slipped off him, drawing a needy whine from his lips, but she quickly wrapped her hand around him, chasing the pace he’d seen her through to the end with.

MacCready groaned and wrapped his hand over hers, squeezing tighter and faster. She watched the furrows deepen around his brows, his breathing growing ragged, a slight tremor to the tendons in his hand.

He dragged her forward into a sudden crushing kiss—his free hand raking through her hair, definitely leaving tangles this time, but she didn’t care. It only took a couple more pumps before he spilt on her stomach. MacCready was panting and flushed, slick sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. He looked at Ivy, half-stunned, pupils blown. Beautiful.

“I—that was—” He let out a winded laugh. She leant forward to pepper his flushed face with kisses.

“I’m going to go wash up”.

She pulled back before he had a chance to drag her down onto the bed, nearly falling onto the floor as swung her leg over him.

MacCready’s grumbles turned into teasing chuckles as Ivy headed on wobbly legs to the bathroom. Glancing back over her shoulder she saw him watching her. MacCready had lolled back onto the bed, still breathing heavily, with a daft, dreamy smile on his face. Heart fluttering in her chest, Ivy blushed all the way down to her stomach.

The reflection that looked back at her in the bathroom mirror was a mess of wild hair and smudged eyeliner. Her lips were pink and swollen from the storm of desperate kisses and bites they’d weathered. Her freckled skin was rubbed red in places where stubble had rasped trails along her neck and across her chest, not to mention the purple bruising beginning to show from MacCready’s love nips that she’d scolded him then begged him for.

Those old nerves seemed even more ridiculous now. How could she have ever though he’d be anything other than wonderful to her.

“You’re hogging the bathroom.”

Arms slipped around her waist as MacCready tugged her back against his chest, trailing kisses along the length of her shoulder, up her neck to her ear. Ivy turned her head to accept the kiss destined for her lips.

“So, I’m sure we were talking about something before we got distracted.” He locked a wicked gaze with her in the mirror. “Oh yes”—he swapped his kisses to trail her other shoulder—“breakfast.”

She leaned back, heavy in his arms, body still blissfully weak.

“I was thinking the Taphouse,” she hummed contentedly.

“Mmm fancy.” MacCready paused long enough that she opened her eyes and huffed at him for stopping. He pressed his cheek against hers and looked at her in the mirror. “You hate Cooke.” 

“He’s a dick,” she conceded sourly. “But the Mr Handy makes good grub. And if they’re condescending”—a smile crept onto her lips at the thought—“we’ll just steal everything we can fit in our pockets.”

Something close to a growl left MacCready’s throat as he clamped a kiss to the base of her neck. “If you ever want to leave this room, you’re going to need to stop talking like that.”

“You’ll have to hold that thought, sweet thing. I need something to soak up the last of this booze and to get my strength back.” He smirked proudly at her. “I’m going to grab a shower.”

His smirk descended into a less satisfied groan at the thought of water.

“It’s not my fault I’m sweaty and sticky.” She backed towards the shower, holding his eye and curled a finger. “So, are you coming with me?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. This is my first time writing smut so please be kind, it's bloody nerve wracking.
> 
> And thank you so much Asaara, you have been a star for supporting me again while I stressed and for reading and reassuring me. You are the best!
> 
> If you would like to read more Mac and Ivy please check out my series of one shots with them - Then I Met You - or pop over and say hi on tumblr (@third-rail-vip) where I've got art and screenshots and all sorts of OTP goodness.


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